Unless you live with or next door to a ferret-owner, I suppose.

Up at seven – sitting, breakfast, then down to the Fairies, which carry on all day.

H goes out and comes back a couple of times.

While I’m out at the corner shop buying something for lunch, a woman comes in with a white ferret poking out of the neck of her anorak. Genuinely something you don’t see every day. Unless you live with or next door to a ferret-owner, I suppose.

In the evening to the Movements.

On the way back there’s a very drunk chap, with one of those miniature bottles of wine that they use on airlines, in full kilt regalia including the hat with the feather in it. He seems to be relishing all the attention he’s getting, although that might be on account of the wine.

Home. Stew. Chocolate.